


Lodestone

by Lillian_Shepherd



Category: Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2011-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillian_Shepherd/pseuds/Lillian_Shepherd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All over the world, whales are behaving strangely.  When a noted industrialist arrives to ask for Nelson's help with evidence of even stranger and more dangerous behaviour that threatens an important scientific project, the Admiral's curiosity is piqued.  What he finds, though, is stranger and more dangerous than he could possibly have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lodestone

**Author's Note:**

> As far as I am concerned there are two different _Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea_ canons - first season, which was brilliant and which cannot be remotely reconciled with the three following seasons, which range from quite good to very bad indeed.
> 
> I, personally, cannot write second, third and fourth season with any seriousness.
> 
> This is firmly Season 1, and the events of the other seasons will not happen in its timeline.

On most days, the wide, gently curving beach looked like the picture on the sort of travel brochure that is posted to top executives with money to spend and a desperate need to spend it away from everyone else. The Man Fridays of this world hadn't got the credit to leave a footprint.

Today, though, the scene was not so much from Robinson Crusoe as from some as yet undiscovered account in Gulliver's diary. Dozens of men scuttled like busy crabs on the tideline, all of them dwarfed by the quintet of silent giants being gradually left behind as the water receded. The swishing of surf seeping through sand was drowned by shouted orders, the thud of pumps and noxious smelling generators, and the continuous patter of water from hoses spraying the beached and drying whales.

"You'd think they'd know better," Chief Jones commented to Lieutenant O'Brien, as the two of them surveyed the chaos with identical expressions of resignation, for all the Chief had a physiognomy that suggested a prize fighter beyond the end of his career and O'Brien was as fresh-faced as if he'd only just left High School.

"They do, normally. According to the Admiral, they usually only do something like this if one of them is sick or badly injured. But there've been a flood of reports of beached whales recently - and of whales bein' where they shouldn't. Like this lot. They're Bowhead Whales, and they don't normally venture out of polar waters."

Curley scrubbed at his crew-cut with a beefy paw. "Well, sir, if you ask me, it's a helluva stupid way to get a suntan."

"Yeah. Particularly when you might die of it."

 

"Only last year we were hunting whales ourselves, now we're saving 'em," Kowalski grumbled, as he attempted to dig a pit in the sand beneath a huge fluke. The pit kept filling with wet sand instead of water, and Kowalski was becoming exasperated.

"One whale," Patterson corrected, being a stickler for accuracy, and also - in spite of his customary lugubrious expression - more happy with his present lot, which involved training a low-pressure hose on the barnacle-studded back.

"One whale, five, a hundred... what difference does it make?"

"This is an endangered species, the Skipper said. There's a mortuarium... mortorium... "

"A which?"

"Something like that, anyway. I think it means that the whaling fleets have to leave this kind alone."

"Oh, you mean like they aren't granting hunting licenses this season? Why didn't you say so?"

 

"Well, what d'you think, Doc?" Captain Crane asked, trying not to grin at the sight of _Seaview's_ distinguished medic peering gloomily into the blood-streaked blubber exposed by a ragged cut in the side of the biggest of the whales.

"I'm no veterinarian," that gentleman pointed out. "But I did call a guy in London who specialises in seaquarium whales. He's never treated anything this big, of course, but he reckons the blubber should protect them from the worst of the infection. I'll clean out the wounds and sterilise them, but I daren't risk anything more sophisticated. Other than that they seem okay. Odd, though. The most common reason for a mass beaching is that one of the whales is injured or ill. These aren't even calling to each other, let alone giving out distress squeals."

"At least that means that they're not likely to throw themselves up here again if we do manage to get them all back into the sea," Crane responded cheerfully.

"Your problem. From my point of view, the main thing to do is make sure they don't dry out before you figure out how to do it." He looked with some approval at the hoses and pumps that made the otherwise paradisical beach so messy. "Good job you're doing here, Chief," he said, as the CPO trotted up.

"Thanks, sir," Jones said, but he was looking at Crane. "We can keep 'em wet, Skipper, until the tide comes in - but I guess that's when our troubles really start."

Crane nodded. "Well, the tide should lift off the male and the two smaller females, but this female and the calf are right up at the high-water mark. They're going to need help."

"Winch, sir? There's no way we can get slings 'round 'em. They're far too big. We can probably get lines about their tails, though it'll be a risky job, but none of our portable winches are going to be strong enough."

"We'll use the bell winch in the missile room," Crane decided. "We've more than enough cable - and plenty of power."

"These things are heavy. We could drag _Seaview_ ashore rather than the whales into the sea."

"We'll use the engines to hold her in place. No problem."

Jones sniffed. "If you say so, sir."

Crane grinned openly at the dubious tone. "Don't worry, Curley. I'll be very, very careful with the new paint job, I promise."

"Yes, sir," Jones said again. "I'll get on it." He plodded off across the sand, yelling for Patterson.

"I love the way he can make 'Yes, sir' sound like a threat," the doctor commented.

"It's a talent," Crane told him. "They don't promote you to CPO unless you have it. But he'll get the job done. And I'd better leave you to get on with yours. We've got to get these beasts back out to sea as quickly as possible, so we can make our rendezvous with Tollen."

"Tollen Undersea Mining Inc?"

"That's the man."

"So, what does he want with us?"

"That's why we have to make the rendezvous, Doc. To find out."

 

"As you know, the area where we have been mining has some highly unusual magnetic fields," Bergman Tollen said, in his best lecturer's manner. As he was a tall, impeccably-dressed man, with a fringe of iron-grey hair around his bald skull and a neatly-trimmed black beard, the effect was indeed impressive. _Seaview's_ command crew, gathered in the observation nose to listen to him, did so attentively. "These indicated huge ore deposits - and a large problem for navigators. We set up a sealab and started surveying - in fact, we started drilling last week - but it was during the survey that we ran across something odd. So odd that we knew no-one would believe it without proof, so my divers used the survey submersible to get these pictures. If you would be so good, Chief...?"

Obediently, Jones dimmed the lights, and the film flickered through its leaders. Then, suddenly, they were looking into open water just under the surface of the ocean, where a huge shoal of fish ran in a blizzard of blue and silver. As the camera panned, it became clear that the fish were being driven by whales. That was not surprising in itself, but the mixture of species of small whales was: bulging-headed, Shortfin Pilots; Striped Dolphin, patterned like clowns; white-speckled Bridled Dolphin, Common Dolphin, sleek and streamlined, with their distinctive yellow patches.

Then a much bigger shape glided into view at the edge of the shoal, apparently coming from the opposite direction. It was twice the size of the dolphins and pilots, its body marked in a striking black and white pattern.

"Watch the Killer Whale," Tollen instructed. "Normally, dolphins are just about their favourite food." Even as he spoke, the larger black and white whale turned on its side, leaving the shoal behind in a few beats of its tail flukes. "Incidentally, the presence of the Killer Whale is no coincidence. We've seen them drive seals in the same way the dolphins drive fish - and they never interfere with each other."

"Maybe these particular Killers just aren't partial to dolphin," Jones muttered.

Tollen heard him. "Maybe, Chief. But that doesn't explain what you're going to see next."

Suddenly, the dolphins and Pilot whales changed position in respect of their shoal, some moving above it, driving the fish downwards. Within a short time they were so deep that only the submersible's lights kept the film from dissolving into thick fog. The watchers caught a glimpse of a domed underwater building that was presumably Tollen's sealab amid a jumble of rocks; then the whole party; fish, whales and submersible entered an narrow undersea canyon. Either the animals were moving faster now or, more likely, the submersible had begun to slow, for suddenly there was a larger distance between them. The fish and the whales seemed to be heading directly for the black canyon wall but, quite suddenly and without any visible signal or hesitation, the whales peeled away, standing on their tails and beating their way towards the surface, while the fish vanished into the cliff.

"There must be a cave in that cliff," Morton said.

"Presumably," Nelson agreed. "But that doesn't explain anything important."

"Certainly," said Tollen. "Certainly there is a cave, and certainly it explains nothing. The fish went in, and didn't come out. Fish - and seals and sealions too - are driven in there every day and they don't come out, either. I've even seen Sperm Whale bring squid. The dolphins and Pilots never go in, but sometimes the Killer Whales do. They come out."

"Have you gone in there?" Nelson asked.

"It's five hundred feet down; a bad depth for divers, and it would be tricky getting the submersible in through the entrance, but we would have tried if it hadn't been for the Killer Whales that have taken to lurking around there."

"Orcas don't normally attack humans," Crane said. "Or submersibles, come to that."

"They don't normally drive seals into undersea caves, either. My men weren't keen on risking it. Which was why we decided to call for help."

"I've never read of behaviour like it," Nelson admitted. "Lee?"

"Beats me. But all cetaceans seem to be acting a little crazy right now."

"Then perhaps its time we called in an expert." Nelson reached for a microphone. "Sparks, this is the Admiral. Put in a call to Doctor Andrea Ritter at the Small Whale Research Trust on Maui. Lee..."

"On our way," Crane said, from the door.

 

The sun shone on wet stone and grey-green sea below a sky clearing behind the afternoon storm, as Nelson, Crane and Tollen walked along the seashore path, threading their way gingerly past a number of huge pools carved out of the bedrock. Occasionally, a snouted head would break water to peer at them, then disappear with a flick of a tail to follow it. Ahead, a small fleet of boats bobbed in the harbour.

Without warning, a black and white wall reared nearly twenty feet out of the harbour to descend with a crack like a twelve inch mortar.

As the men shook the water from their hair, a large, egg-shaped pinto head appeared, mouth agape to reveal rows of sharp teeth, tiny black eyes glinting with what Nelson could have sworn was amusement.

For a moment, the men stood still, unsure of how to react, then Crane laughed, and walked forward to kneel at the water's edge, just inches from the great jaws. "That wasn't funny, Polaris," he told the Killer Whale, which squeaked derision at him, then rolled onto its back, exposing a vast amount of white belly and a waving flipper.

"Spoiled brat," Crane said, but he leaned out to scratch the whale's chest just behind the flipper.

"It's a dreadful trick. I can't imagine who taught him such bad manners." The speaker was a tall, athletic-looking woman in early middle-years, with a brisk manner and sun-wrinkled eyes that never seemed to stop smiling. "Hello, Lee."

"Hi, Andi." Crane rose and extended the hand that had been scratching the whale.

The woman grasped it firmly and glared at the whale, which was now the right way up and making rude noises with its blow-hole. "Shut up, Polaris. Lee has other things to do with his time than scratch you - at least, that's the way I heard it."

"Unfortunately true," Crane said. "You know Admiral Nelson, of course?"

"We've listened to each other being pompous at scientific conventions," came the answer. "Morning, Admiral - and you too, Mr Tollen. Sorry about the greeting you got from Polaris. He doesn't do it to strangers - but, unfortunately for you, he thinks Captain Crane here's fair game."

Nelson was looking very hard at Crane. "Is he indeed?"

Catching the nuances, Ritter grinned. "Lee headed the navy team on the joint trials we did with them. Still got your implants?" she added, to Crane.

"Considering how much trouble it was to have them fitted at that time, there was no way I was going to have them taken out. Knowing you, you've probably changed the design so much we'll need six different kinds of connector, though."

Nelson was still staring at Crane. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Crane shrugged. "It was classified 'secret'. Though I daresay it's in my Navy file. Don't tell me you haven't read it."

"I may finally have to find out what else you've been hiding from me. Meanwhile, Dr Ritter, we need your help. How do you feel about bringing your team of Killer Whales to help solve a scientific mystery?"

 

It took them several days to reach the mining concession. _Seaview_ dawdled to keep pace with Dr Ritter's fast research vessel, and the Killer Whale pod kept company with both. There were ten of them, all fitted with communicators wired into their brains that allowed a sort of electronic telepathy between men and whales while both were underwater.

"Of course it's not telepathy," Andi Ritter said, as she lounged in _Seaview's_ observation nose drinking a large gin with not very much tonic. "The actual transmission uses ultrasound, at a frequency neither the whales nor men can hear."

"I can't see anything different about them," Morton observed, watching through the windows as the Orcas took turns to ride the bow waves.

"Well, obviously, because of the whales' streamlining we had to insert the whole Ultrasonic Interpretor/Transceptor unit into the body cavity, rather than the simple pickup and transmit units we implant in humans. It's easy for a man to wear the UIT power-pack and switching gear strapped to his body. With a whale it'd cut down his speed or be ripped away by it. It's as much as we can do the make them wear a simple strap harness that the divers can grab if they need a tow. Polaris is trained to carry a camera, but we have to keep reminding him to go at a snail's pace. We've lost more cameras that way..."

"But that's the way we'll try first," Nelson told her. "I don't want to risk the lives of your team or my men unless I have to."

"Care to take a bet that that's what we'll have to do in the end?"

Nelson shook his head. "I'm getting too old to fall for a sucker bet."

"Have you picked your team to accompany my people?"

"Not yet."

"You'll have to make your choice soon enough," Ritter said. "The sooner the better, in fact, as they should start getting acquainted with the whales and learning to trust them in the water right now. Myself, I think myself that you'll have some difficulty keeping Captain Crane out of the party."

"He's going to have to give me a better reason than his own curiosity for being in," Nelson retorted. "Scientific curiosity is my side of the partnership."

"Maybe it's rubbing off. I'd encourage it if I were you."

"Meaning you want him in," said Nelson.

She nodded. "He's a good diver. He's intelligent. I like him. More importantly, the whales like him. And he's implanted, which means he can communicate directly with them."

"He has other responsibilities," Nelson said repressively. "Still, I'll think about it."

 

"We're less than ten minutes away from the rig, sir," Crane told Nelson, as he joined him and Dr Ritter and Tollen in the observation nose. "We have the supply ship on radar, and, though we're still having trouble contacting them, Sparks managed to get through to them for long enough to tell them we were on our way. Apparently there've been some developments, but we still haven't got the details."

"The pressure pool rigged?" Nelson asked.

"Rigged and tested. We've just been showing the whales how to enter, though they don't like our special atmospheric mixture: Polaris made it clear the Orcas think it smells foul."

"They'll have to put up with it. The pressure pool is more for our convenience than theirs."

"Pressure pool, Admiral?" Tollen asked.

"A pressurised compartment sealed off from the rest of the ship by airlocks. Most of its floor is open to the sea, though we can shut the opening in the hull with double hydraulic doors if we have to. We can't operate at any great depth with it open, and it creates problems with the trim when its flooded, but it'll allow the Killer Whales to enter _Seaview_ and the divers to leave with them."

"All mod cons," Ritter added.

"It was your work that made me decide to have the conversion done, Andrea. In years to come, submarines may carry dolphins and small whales as part of the crew. As it is, it means that both human and Orca teams can operate directly from _Seaview_."

Tollen was looking at Ritter with a new expression of interest. "I can see I'm going to have to talk to Dr Ritter about the implications of all this for undersea mining operations," he said.

"I'm not sure there are any," Ritter lied.

"Well, there certainly should be implications for the financing of your research..." came the pointed response.

"Mr Tollen," Ritter began, and everyone could see she was angry. "I-"

"D'you want the human team to suit up?" Crane interrupted, giving her a significant glare, as he edged towards the door.

Ritter was on her feet before Nelson said: "No. I want to send Polaris out with a camera, so we know what we're dealing with. You can call him in when we need him, Andrea. Meanwhile, Lee, let's take a look at the set-up from here before we do anything hasty."

It had become 'accepted' that Crane would lead a diving party consisting of Ritter, two of her people, two of _Seaview_ 's crew, and four of the Killer Whales, before Nelson himself had come to any such decision. The Admiral wished he knew how Lee had manoeuvred it.

He's getting too good at manipulating me.

On the other hand, there had been times when the assurance that Crane could second-guess his actions had been very reassuring.

You can't have it both ways, he reminded himself, as _Seaview_ edged down below the surface, leaving the sunlight behind for the darkness in which she had been designed to operate.

"The interference is getting stronger," Crane observed. "We've done all we can to filter it out and sonar's unaffected, but I still wouldn't like to take her through here on instruments alone."

"There must be a huge lodestone deposit under those rocks," Nelson agreed. "What puzzles me is the complexity of the fields. Chief! I want all the date we're getting recorded. Let's see if the computer can find a pattern for us."

"Aye, sir."

"I'm getting a lot of random echoes, Captain," the sonar operator called.

"Switch on nose camera," Nelson ordered, even as Crane ordered the engine room to come to a dead slow.

Morton reached out to turn the switch on the monitor. Through the fuzzy interference patterns, they could all make out a landscape of twisted rock. The canyon fell away to their right into even deeper darkness, but a number of small whales hovered or patrolled above it, like dragon and damselflies above the surface of a still summer pond. Beyond them lay the domes of the sealab, an alien geometry within the jagged peaks and canyons, and the drilling tower, which looked oddly at one with the landscape because...

"What the devil's going on here?" Tollen roared. "Look at the rig, Admiral. It's bent out of shape like a tin toy."

"Take us in closer, Lee," Nelson ordered.

"But what could do that, Admiral?" Ritter asked, with an uneasy note in her voice that suggested she might already suspect the answer.

"I... er... I'm not sure..."

Morton was still watching the screen. "What the hell-"

"Our answer," Nelson said, watching two huge Sperm Whales swim out of the blackness beyond the lights, at a speed that brought them to the rig in seconds. Their huge box-heads rammed into metal, and the observers on _Seaview_ all saw the rig sway on its struts before settling back into position. The whales turned, still in unison, and came about in a great circle.

"Stop them, Admiral!" Tollen yelled, white-faced with anger.

"I'm open to suggestions."

"A torpedo-"

"Would just finish the job on the rig," Crane said, as the whales themselves ran in like guided missiles to complete the job they had plainly been working on for some time. When they struck, the strut gave way and the rig began its slow-motion fall.

"All stop," Crane ordered, everyone else being too astonished or fascinated to realise the danger of their situation. Already, the big whales were eyeing the submarine suspiciously. "I'm not taking her any closer unless I have to," he told Nelson.

The tower raised clouds of mud as it hit the seabed, and the whales vanished into them.

"Ok-ay, Lee, let's find out what else has been happening around here, shall we?" said Nelson. "Surface and lay alongside the supply ship."

 

Rebuffed, _Seaview_ headed back to the surface and a conference aboard the supply ship. There, Nelson and Crane learned that the local Killer Whales would allow nothing, not even the submersible, within a couple of hundred yards of either the rig or the canyon, though visitors to the sealab were being allowed to come and go as they pleased.

"And this all started after you left to meet us?" Nelson asked Tollen, the note of scepticism probably apparent only to Crane.

"Yes," Tollen said quickly, surprising several members of his own team, to judge by the sudden blankness of their expressions. "Oh, there were whales in the area, and acting in a most peculiar fashion, as I've already told you - but we'd started drilling and our work was underway."

"This didn't... er... start when the drilling started?" Nelson pressed.

"I've told you - no," Tollen said sourly. "Nor can I see any point in the question."

"I'm... er.. not sure what the point is, either," Nelson admitted. "But before we can form any theory of what.. what's happening here, we need... er... accurate data."

"Theory!" the supply ship's captain exploded. "The fact remains that those blasted whales have wrecked the rig. What's more, they're stopping us fixing it. We've been waiting for you to get here and tell us how to get rid of them.

Tollen hit palm against fist. "If necessary, we'll blast them out of the way," he stated.

"Not," said Crane, "with my submarine."

Tollen looked quickly to Nelson: "Admiral, you know what I'm attempting to mine here, and its strategic importance-"

"You'll... er... get your rig operational, Mr Tollen," Nelson said slowly. "But I'm inclined to agree with Captain Crane that killing the whales is not going help the situation. I want to know what it is those whales think they're defending. Dr Ritter, let's see what Polaris can pick up on the camera."

 

Unfortunately, this tactic proved useless. For some mysterious reason only a whale could understand, Polaris shed his camera within seconds of leaving _Seaview_.

After this had happened half a dozen times, Nelson reluctantly agreed to let Crane and Ritter assemble their diving party, only to find that the Orcas refused to co-operate with that too. Not that Polaris, Sirius, Arcturus and the others were nasty about it, but they simply ignored the instructions, refusing to come to call or even come near the submarine.

Finally, in something like desperation, and against Nelson's explicit instructions, Crane and Ritter led their party towards the canyon - and into a solid wall of dolphin and Killer Whale that nudged and buffeted them back towards the pressure pool inside the submarine.

Andrea Ritter's language was most unladylike as she stripped off her gear. "Fucking animals. I don't know what's gotten into the blasted things, Admiral. We're weren't even getting anything over the communicators except a sort of blast of pure negative."

"As if they'd be shouting 'No, no, no, no,' if only they knew the word," Crane added.

"They ought to. I've shouted it at them often enough," Ritter admitted, her habitual good humour beginning to return. "Well, Admiral, what now?"

"Damned if I know. Change out of that wet gear then join me in the control room and we'll see if we can think of something."

She sketched a salute in response, said, "Aye aye, sir," and allowed herself to be ushered out in the wake of her departing colleagues.

Crane was about to follow them when he felt an alien but familiar touch on his mind, not a voice, but a personality just the same. He turned just in time to see the familiar black and white head of an Orca appear in the pool.

"Polaris?" he whispered, because it was easier to vocalise when communicating with the whales.

_Quiet affirmative._

"What?"

_Invitation._

"You want me to go with you? Down to the cave?"

Polaris rolled on his back, waving one flipper in the air. Crane knelt to scratch the white belly. "Okay, buddy," he said quietly. "You've invited me in, so the least I can do is go take a look."

 

If Ritter had been unamused by the cetacean mutiny, Tollen was beside himself with rage. Nelson almost expected to see him foam at the mouth. "Admiral, we have to start blasting our way through those whales!" he exploded. "You know as well as I do how important those defence contracts are. We have to start mining as soon as possible. We're already behind schedule."

"I know, I know, but don't you... er... think that-"

"Captain Crane told you that he wouldn't contemplate that, Mr Tollen," Ritter snapped, "and neither will I."

"Where is Captain Crane?" Nelson asked, suddenly realising that he had failed to join them, and the mug of coffee brought for him was cooling in solitary splendour on the tray resting on the plot table.

Kowalski, Patterson and Jones, who had been with the diving team and had tagged along with the control room party out of pure curiosity, now exchanged uneasy glances. The two crewmen suddenly found tasks they had previously overlooked, leaving Curley Jones elected as spokesman by virtue of rank and the desertion of his colleagues. "The Skipper went back out to take a look at the cave, sir," he volunteered.

"He what?" Nelson asked sharply. Then, "Alone?"

"Yessir. I did ask to go with him when I refilled his tanks, but-"

"The whales didn't stop him?" Dr Ritter asked sharply.

"No, ma'am. He had one of them with him. Polaris, I think he said."

"Then he's not alone."

A glance at Jones suggested to Nelson that the Chief shared the Admiral's doubts about this contention. "When he gets back he's to report to me immediately, Chief," Nelson ordered grimly.

"I'll tell him, sir." Jones took the words as dismissal and retreated.

There was no doubt about it, Nelson decided. He was going to have to set a team working on to improve underwater communications in this area. What he had to say to Crane would not get better for keeping.

 

Half an our later, Jones was back, hovering at Nelson's sleeve. "Begging your pardon, Admiral, but Captain Crane just got back aboard-"

"But- but I told you I wanted him here. Didn't you give him my order?"

"No, sir."

"Chief-" There was danger in Nelson's voice and even more in his expression.

Jones's pleasantly-pugnacious face was unnaturally blank, but he stood his ground. "Sir, he's unconscious. That whale brought him back. He's in sickbay right now. We can't wake him up. The Doc-"

"You seem to be getting rather careless with your submarine captains," Tollen remarked. "Isn't this the second one to meet with an unfortunate accident in three years-"

Suddenly, there was murder in Nelson's eyes. Only Jones's hand on his arm restrained him as he took half a step towards Tollen.

Dr Ritter stepped between them. "Tollen, shut up. When you take as many risks you can start criticising. Admiral-" But Nelson was already gone.

 

"How bad is it?" Nelson demanded of the ship's doctor before he was decently inside the sickbay. Crane was lying on the examination table in the middle of the room, eyes closed, but breathing and not attached to any particularly frightening apparatus. The doctor was sitting on the edge of his desk. He looked up from the paper he was holding and regarded Nelson diagnostically for a moment, then signalled the corpsman to leave. He did so, shutting the door after him. It was not a good sign.

"Well?" Nelson asked pointedly. "What's wrong with him?"

"That's not as easy to answer as it sounds," the doctor prevaricated. "There's no sign of injury, and his heart and breathing rate are what you'd expect from someone in a coma..."

"Concussion?" Nelson asked.

"I thought there might be a brain injury of some kind, so I took an encephalographic scan. You'd better sit down, Admiral. It isn't good n-"

"I've got that message. So talk, blast it."

"Take a look." The doctor extended the printout. "Top five lines. There's no activity in the upper brain at all. His body's still alive, if you can call it that, but-"

"There's no mind." Nelson was staring at the trace-lines with dreadful fascination.

"I'm sorry," the Doc said gently. "I wouldn't like to say there's no chance, but... " The Admiral let him ramble on, not hearing him, as he gathered inner resources. For the moment he felt numb, if slightly sick, but he knew that would not last for very long. Then he became aware that the Doc had spoken his name for at least the third time, and his stare was altogether too searching. "Admiral Nelson?"

"I'm all right. Just... thinking. I'd like to stay with him for a while... alone, if you don't mind, Doc."

The doctor gave him a long and very suspicious look.

Nelson met it with his most arrogant Admiral's stare, then, after a few seconds, deliberately broke eye contact. "I... Well, er... you've got to... to give me a little... er... time to come to terms with this... Please, Doc."

Putting a hand on his shoulder for a moment, the doctor said: "All the time you want. And if you want to talk..."

At Nelson's quick headshake, he left.

The Admiral sat down on the edge of Crane's bed, watching the slight movements of his breathing, signs of life that were heartbreaking because they meant so little.

He's dead. Accept it. This is just a shell...

Yeah, a shell that could live on for years...

He had a horrible vision of watching Crane's body living on in some hospital, fed and watered like some sort of grotesque plant, dying by inches...

I can't let it happen. Won't. He'd hate the idea... want it to be clean... Maybe even done with affection...

The idea stopped him cold.

No. Christ, no.

But that's what the Doc suspects I... might do. He won't conduct a mercy killing himself... but he wonders if I might... perhaps even hopes I will...

And where am I supposed to find the strength to take Lee's life, then put someone else in his place? To carry on as if he'd never-

"You damn fool," he said aloud. "Why d'you have to be so fuckin' awkward? What the devil were you trying to prove out there?"

No answer, of course. But he didn't need one.

We're too alike. It could just as easily have been me... Christ, but I wish it had been.

And put this choice on Lee? Is that how much I care for him? To want him to hurt this much...

This shouldn't've been such a shock. I knew it would happen someday... inevitable. It didn't hurt like this when Phillips died... then it was simply sorrow, not this heart-rending anguish.

Phillips wasn't Lee.

He'd liked him well enough, but he'd been no more than a colleague. If he was going to be honest, Phillips's death had been more an inconvenience than a wound.

He had admitted as much at the time: "...I don't know how I'm going to replace him..."

The reply had changed his life: "...been arranged. We've requisitioned the best submarine commander in the navy for you. D'you know an officer called Lee Crane?"

In the circumstances, he'd very nearly burst out laughing...

 

"...in view of Lt Crane's courage, coolness and quick thinking in the most difficult circumstances, and accepting responsibility far in excess of that required by his rank, I recommend..."

His confidential report to Rear-Admiral Warrington at the Pentagon had been almost as glowing, but with some important reservations. "...brilliant, of course, but he's going to annoy a lot of middle-rankers and some flag officers by being smarter than they are. Find him the tough posts, Jack, the tougher the better. That way you'll be able to promote him faster - and it might knock some of the arrogance out of him."

"You're a fine one to talk about arrogance," Jack Warrington had said, but he'd followed Nelson's advice all the same...

 

...and then he hadn't seen Lee for nearly six years.

Until he was wished on me - and proved that he hadn't lost any of that self-assurance I'd described as arrogance by the way he came aboard.

And proceeded to throw himself into each dangerous situation with such suicidal enthusiasm that I began to wonder what he was trying to prove.

Later, I understood it was simply part of his command style: never send a man to do a job you wouldn't do yourself, and put the right man on the right job, even if it happens to be you.

 

All the same, we both did prove something on that trip...

 

...they were less than ten minutes away from the entrance to _Seaview_ 's dock beneath the NIMR, with what they had achieved in the Arctic wastes something to be put aside in favour of new challenges, when he tapped on the door of the Captain's cabin, and pushed it open without waiting for an answer. "Hey," he said gently. "Aren't you going to supervise docking?"

Lee looked up, smiled briefly - that quick, tentative smile that Nelson had seen so often in the last three weeks - and shoved a hand through his hair. "Chip knows these waters," he replied. "I don't, yet. This is not the way I normally take command," he added.

"No." Nelson perched on the edge of the desk and watched the desk light glint on the polished toe of his shoe as he swung it. "I don't suppose it is. Necessity." Absently, he flipped open one of the folders lying on the desk. "Personnel files?"

"They help," Lee said. "I haven't had the luxury of getting to know this crew and I'm not sure I will have before you find another mess like this one for us to tackle. This way, I've a start."

"As I told you, they're a good crew. The best."

Lee leaned back in his chair and regarded Nelson thoughtfully. "They're your team. Phillips's team. I'm not Phillips."

"No," Nelson agreed, with a smile. "Far from it. Less diplomacy, more imagination, _, passé_ Fred Wilson."

"Oh, it was him who thought I lacked imagination, was it? I had a hunch it might have been. But if Phillips was your ideal captain for _Seaview_ , you may be making a mistake with me."

"Phillips wasn't an ideal," Nelson protested. "He was a hell of a good submarine commander... but then so are you."

"Thanks," Lee said, dryly.

"Don't mention it." Glancing at him, Nelson surprised the tentative smile again. "In fact- Well, er... I'm not sure I should be... er... telling you this..." But I want you to smile at me properly and be confident I'll smile back. "When I was looking for a captain for _Seaview_ in the first place, I used the Navy's computers to run a search on all the available people who'd commanded submarines against a best-case profile. The computer put your name at the top of the list."

Lee quirked an eyebrow.

"I rejected that choice for several reasons; some even sounded pretty altruistic: like that you might not want to interrupt what was becoming a meteoric career for what could turn out to be a dead end, like you were still a little young for the job, a little inexperienced but that wasn't the real reason. At that point, I had to choose what type of captain I wanted for _Seaview_ : did I want steadiness or brilliance, a super-efficient subordinate, or a... rival? Did I want all the hassle I knew you'd cause me along with the hassle of commissioning _Seaview_...?"

Both eyebrows were up now. "Are you suggesting I don't follow orders?"

"When it suits you." Nelson gave him the most blinding of his own smiles. "I took the coward's way out: I appointed Phillips. But he died, and suddenly you were here anyway and... I don't think Captain Phillips would have made it, up there at the Pole, not with us all alive and _Seaview_ intact. Fate gave me a chance to correct my mistake. Maybe I should have talked to you about it first but I wanted to see your face when you read that message."

And I didn't want to risk your saying 'No'.

Lee was still watching him intently. "Rival?" he asked.

Nelson held out his hand across the pool of light on the desk. "Partner?" he suggested.

Lee's hand closed firmly about his, and this time there was nothing tentative about the smile. "I'll see if I can produce the super-efficient subordinate for you too... when the occasion warrants it."

"Not tonight," Nelson said. "Tonight, we find Fred and Chip and we go out and celebrate - right?"

"You buying?"

"Yes - this time."

"Then what the hell are we hanging about here for...?"

 

It hadn't been that simple, any more than his explanation had contained the whole truth. He'd been too used to being obeyed without question, enjoying the undivided loyalty of _Seaview's_ crew... and Lee'd had the guts - yes, and the arrogance - to oppose him. But they'd compromised, found an accommodation and, somehow, Nelson was not sure when, the tension had eased into acceptance, then into a mutual dependence neither of them could have imagined on that first mission, for all the rekindled liking and respect.

For a while it had seemed worth the risk.

Three years... less than three years and now I have to pay the price.

"No," he said aloud.

Why not? I've had to give orders before that I thought would kill him. And I did... But I never had to face the consequences, did I? Never had time.

"Where the hell are you when I really need your help, Lee?" he asked bitterly. "Where've you gone? I-" His words stopped, but his thoughts raced on, idea piling on idea.

Gone? Gone. But where could a mind go? Thoughts. Electrochemical patterns. This whole seamount area was one vast complex electrical field. And the UIT worked at short range like... Practical telepathy? Lee had gone in there and come out like this - what had he left behind?

"It can't be true," Nelson told himself. "Intellect, personality, they're functions of the brain. You can't disembody a personality."

Or could you?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

Dear God, but it was wild, clutching at straws...

He smiled wryly to himself. The medical diagnosis would not put it so kindly. Suicide while the balance of the mind was disturbed? For a moment, he considered the possibility that he was deranged, that this inability to accept the inevitability of Lee's loss meant an acceptance of the unreal.

For the first time, he reached out to touch Crane, brushing his cheek gently with his fingertips. "You," he said, "had better have one hell of a good explanation for getting us into this."

 

"Firstly," Dr Ritter said, regarding Nelson in much the same way his fifth-grade teacher had done, "inserting the implants is really a surgeon's job. Secondly, the whales won't allow you into the cave. Thirdly, even if they did, you'd probably end up dead."

"Maybe so," Nelson admitted. "But we're still no closer to solving this mystery, Doctor - and I cannot ask anyone else to take the risk."

"I presume Captain Crane's reasoning was much the same. If those really are your motives, Admiral, and I must say I doubt it, they're not good enough. This particular mystery isn't worth lives."

"Then why let it cost Crane his?" The words were a risk, of course. If his judgement of Ritter was wrong...

She was looking at him very shrewdly indeed. "But it already has - hasn't it, Admiral?"

He was heartened enough by the dubious note in the question to go on. "Maybe not. Look, there's a helluva lot of very strange electrical activity out there. Your implant communicators work electronically, and thoughts themselves are electrical in nature. There's a chance that Crane's brain patterns may have been copied through his communicator into whatever's in those rocks. "

"I believe that may be the wildest scientific theory that I've ever heard," Ritter said slowly. "And it's got some competition. But, even if it happened to be true, if you retrace his steps, the chances are that your mind'll be copied too."

"I'm counting on it," Nelson said. "But what's been copied once can be recopied - and, because I'll know what's happened, I may be able to get us out."

Ritter shook her head. "Odds are that you'll be trapped too."

Nelson shrugged. "At least I won't be alone."

"Okay," Ritter said. "I admit to having done the implants before. The AMA didn't sue me then, so I don't suppose they will this time either."

"So you think it's possible?"

Ritter smiled. "Nope. But I'll help you all the same. If he really means that much to you, I don't think I've got the right to stand in your way."

 

As the equipment Ritter needed was on board her research craft, Nelson's first priority was to get _Seaview_ to the surface. That took no more than a simple order and Morton, probably in the same sort of shock the Admiral had been just an hour before, did not think to question it.

 

"You're lucky," Ritter said, as she tightened the cradle that held Nelson's head steady. "In the days before lasers we'd've had to drill through the base of the skull and I certainly wouldn't have attempted that. Let me just check the scan... Yeah. In position - and stop trying to watch me. This is difficult enough without you jerking around."

Nelson muttered something about never having liked dentists.

"I'll tell you what I'm doing as I do it. I'm putting on a local - stop you jerking when the skin's cut."

"Just what is the range of these things? I get the impression you have to be almost in bodily contact for them to work."

"In air, yes. They have a slightly greater range in water, but not much."

"How close do the transceptors have to be to the implants - that stung, by the way."

"That was the laser. You now have a pinhole in your skull. Well, the sensor implants have to be connected physically to the transceptors in the UIT main unit, which is normally strapped to a diver's belt. If the transceptors were remote from the main unit there could be some transmission loss over longer distances."

"What if we used superconductor filaments?"

"Less, obviously. I'm inserting the implant now, by the way. You shouldn't feel a thing so yell like heck if you do. Why? Why d'you want the transceptors more remote, I mean?"

"Two main reasons: Crane's got to be back in contact with the electrical patterns if there's any chance of retrieving his mind, and I don't know how long all this is going to take. So we can't go in as free divers, or use the minisub. I was thinking of borrowing the submersible."

"Oh? Think you can sweet-talk Tollen round the way you talked me?"

"I wasn't," said Nelson, "thinking of asking him."

 

The next step was to assemble the help. Ritter's team were unlikely to question her orders, so he left them to her. One member of that team, though, had to be spoken with directly.

"Polaris..." Nelson felt incredibly stupid talking to a whale, even though he had heard others do it and seen the results. "I've got to take the submersible into the cave."

_Query?_

Nelson stepped back in astonishment. Though he had been told what to expect, feeling that strong sense of a question in his head, and yet not in his head threw him off balance. "I've got to take Lee Crane back into that cave, and I have to do it in the submersible because he can't... swim... at the moment. Will you help us?"

_Affirmative._

Nelson let out a deep breath of relief. As simple as that, though the Lord only knew what Polaris's motives for helping him might be. Nothing a human could understand, presumably. "When the submersible dives, lead it down to the cave."

_Query?_

"You lead submersible to cave," Nelson said, putting it as simply as he knew how.

Polaris slapped his tail on the surface of the water with obvious impatience.

_Query? What lead? Query?_

Suddenly, Nelson understood. "The small underwater craft. The one your friends won't allow to dive..." As he was speaking, he imagined a picture of the submersible in his mind. Perhaps that would work...

_Understanding. Affirmative._

And Polaris was suddenly gone, with a last slap of his tail flukes that would have soaked Nelson if the Admiral had not stepped very smartly out of the way.

 

The worst task was getting Crane out of sickbay; _Seaview's_ doctor was not going to be pleased when the drug wore off and he finally woke up, but Nelson decided to apologise later... if there was a later. Maybe in future the Surgeon-Commander would not be quite so trusting of charming women with headaches - they made ideal distractions for the application of chloroform pads.

It was Nelson himself who cleared their way off the ship, however, by the simple expedient of going on ahead and ordering everyone he met off duty and out of his way, while Ritter and two of her team, puzzled but obedient, trundled Crane along in a wheelchair and manhandled him through the hatches.

 

It was a pity Lee couldn't see what was happening... he'd've laughed himself silly. Or perhaps not. He would not have been at all pleased at the way Nelson could breach all attempts at security simply by using his admiral's authority and the crew's respect.

But then, if Lee had been in charge, one of those crewmen might have said: "Hadn't you better take it up with the Skipper, sir?"

Believe me, Nelson thought, I just wish I could.

 

Nelson stuck his head through the forward deck hatch and looked about him. Tollen's ship lay fifteen points off the starboard quarter and about four hundred yards away, with the bright orange submersible in its floating dock alongside. A large inflatable was powering its way towards them, summoned by Ritter while Nelson had been talking to Polaris. Two crewmen were loitering beside the sail. The Admiral heaved himself out onto the deck and stalked towards them: "You two! What the hell are you doing here?" he bellowed.

"We're the deck detail, sir. We-"

"Didn't you hear the order for all hands to get below?"

"Sir?"

"Ob-vi-ously not," Nelson drawled, with an intonation that implied much the opposite.

The two men exchanged glances. "Er... we were just on... er... our way below, sir."

"Good, and while you're about it, check out ballast pump number six. I've a suspicion the seal's beginning to give."

"Yes, sir. We'll get on it right away."

 

And they won't think to report to Morton for at least half an hour. By then...

 

"It's not guarded," Ritter hissed, though there was little point in silence with the inflatable's outboard roaring behind them and the wet wind rushing past their ears.

"Why should it be?" Nelson yelled back.

"Someone might steal it."

"Now why should anyone... er.. do anything like that, Doctor?"

Ritter grinned. "You tell me, Raffles."

 

There was a diver in the water beside the submersible. Now he lifted a hand, finger and thumb circled in the OK sign, before ducking back under the waves. That meant that the transceptors had been fitted to the lights and connected by superconductor filament along the powerducts to the cabin. Not, of course, that his engineers knew why, exactly, they had been ordered to do any such thing...

"One of these days," Crane had warned him, often enough, "you're going to come up against someone who isn't impressed by your rank and reputation."

I thought I had.

Damn.

"I don't suppose..." Andrea Ritter said, as the diver vanished, hopefully in the direction of _Seaview_ , "that you'd consider letting me go with you."

"You don't suppose right," Nelson said firmly. "You're implanted too, Andrea. We daren't risk it-"

He was interrupted by an outburst of shouting from the other side of the supply ship. That would be the crew, who would just have sighted the whole Orca pod heading directly towards them, as planned.

The shots that followed had not been in the plan, and Ritter was cursing as the inflatable drew alongside the floating dock.

"It's all yours, Andrea," Nelson told her, handing her his pistol as an afterthought. He was hardly likely to need it.

The woman grinned like one of her own whales and leaped first onto the floating dock, the up the ladder to the supply ship's deck, her human team at her heels. All except one man who, once the argument on board the supply ship was sizzling nicely, helped Nelson lift Crane out of their little craft and manoeuvre him down into the submersible.

Once Crane had been installed in the rear seat, Nelson took the controls as his helper scooted back to the inflatable, pausing only to secure the hatch behind him and free the submersible from her mooring locks.

Nelson had never sat at the controls of this particular submersible before, but he had not expected any problems and there were none. The engines started at the touch of a switch, and so did the air pumps. It was the work of less than thirty seconds to back the submersible out of her dock and under the surface where Polaris waited to lead him downwards.

Well, at least this Orca had not been hit by the gunfire. He hoped none of the others had either. He had an odd feeling that this was their fight too.

Soon _Seaview_ was above him, a weird shape like a hammerheaded shark basking under the wave-flickered subsurface sunlight, the two other ships dwarfed by her bulk. Below lay the unknown, with his cetacean guide like an Indian scout on a pinto pony leading the cavalry against... what?

Time to find out.

He switched on the lights as the sea became murkier about him, so Polaris became a dancer in the spotlight, the other whales spectators who, so far, made no move to interfere.

 

Morton's patience was proverbial amongst _Seaview's_ crew, but it was now beginning to be sorely tried. When Tollen had sought him out to put his side of the argument he had made encouraging noises on the basis that, from what Jones had told him of what had transpired in the Control room, it was advisable to keep the mining engineer out of Nelson's hair for a while. He'd've done the same with Ritter, but the woman seemed to have vanished. Perhaps he ought to have informed Nelson of that fact, but the Admiral had enough worries...

Not that he didn't share most of them.

He had, in fact, expected Nelson to call him or come and find him, but-

"Control room here, Mr Morton," the PA said, interrupting both Tollen's speech and Morton's totally unconnected thoughts. "I think you ought to know, the submersible's just dived."

Morton whirled on Tollen. "Your men were told to stay where they were!" he accused.

"And those were the orders I gave them! Blast it, it's dangerous down there? What the Devil's going on?"

"I don't know either but I intend to find out," Morton said grimly, switching on an intercom mike. "Sparks, this is the Exec. Radio the supply ship-"

"They're already on the line, sir. There's a lot of static, but from what I can make out, someone's stolen their submersible."

"Stolen?" Morton and Tollen howled together.

"Can't be positive, sir-"

"I'll be right there." The mike crashed back onto its hook but, even as Morton and Tollen started for the door, they were interrupted again.

"Mr Morton, this is Jones. I just got to sickbay and found-"

The mike must have been snatched out of the CPO's hand, for a different voice took over, a voice that was, astonishingly, shaking. "Chip ... t-this is Doc..." A bout of coughing followed. "You'd... you'd better get down to sickbay."

"What's wrong? Has something happened to the Skipper?"

"I'm.... not... I... I ... don't know. Just... just get down here, Chip."

It was the note of near-hysteria in the doctor's voice that decided Morton. "Okay, Doc," he said, "we'll be right there." The problem with the submersible would just have to wait. As far as Morton was concerned, Crane was more important.

"Commander," Tollen began. "What about-?"

"With me, Mr Tollen," Morton said, deciding that he was going to keep at least one of his passengers under his eyes. They were halfway to the door when yet another voice called his name from the intercom.

"Mr Morton, Dr Ritter has just come back aboard."

Morton leaped to snatch up a mike. "What'd'you mean, 'back aboard'? When did she leave?"

"I don't know, sir, but she says she has to talk to you-"

"Tell her to meet us in sickbay."

"Mad," Tollen said, following him out. "You're all crazy."

Morton was none too sure that he did not agree with him.

 

It was a close fit into the cave entrance. Once again, Nelson found himself wishing desperately that Crane was conscious, this time to take the little craft's helm.

But if Crane had been conscious then there would have been no need to bring the submersible in here at all.

Not that there seemed to be anything here to see. The cave was black, water-filled and silent. Nelson cut the engines and stopped, noticing for the first time that Polaris was no longer with him. Plainly, the whale had not felt compelled to come in here with him.

Though he must have accompanied Lee...

Forget it. I may not have much time.

With that knowledge in mind, he left his seat to attach the superconductor filaments to the transceptor on Crane's belt, and turned it on. Though he could not help hoping that that would call Crane back all by itself, he was not at all surprised when nothing at all happened. Settling in his own chair, he attached his own transceptor to the filaments and...

 

Unseeing, unsteered, he floated through the a black maze, bouncing off dead ends, watching lights flick in and out, as if they were coming through invisible walls, hearing the clicks and moans of thousands upon thousands of whales...

 

There was someone in the blackness. Though there was no light, Nelson could see him clearly, though later he could not have said whether it was a face he was seeing, or the whole body, or what clothes the other man was wearing.

That didn't matter. What mattered was that it was Crane.

Instantly, without moving, Nelson was beside him, gripping his shoulders with hands he could not remember having a minute ago.

He felt solid, warm, and the hazel eyes were wide and stunned as they looked into Nelson's.

"Admiral?" It was a whisper, but it cancelled the clicks and moans.

"Who else?" Nelson asked, into silence.

Crane sighed, his body sagging as tension left it. "I've been trying to imagine you here for hours, but you wouldn't materialise. Past horrors... things I've seen in nightmares... but not you. I couldn't make you real until now."

"Possibly because I am real, if only as a mental pattern. Think of us both as a kind of ghost."

"Pretty solid ghosts," Crane said.

"That's because we can't imagine sensing things any other way. We're only imagining we can see and touch each other because that's the way human minds work."

"So I am existing in the electric fields. I was afraid that was the answer, but I didn't want to believe it. I might have known you'd've worked it out. Except, of course, you can't really be here. You haven't got the implants. Never mind," he added, with an attempt at a smile. "In the circumstances, I'm just grateful for any Nelson, even if it is one out of my imagination."

Nelson shook him slightly. "Dammit, Lee, I'm real. Andrea Ritter put in the implants and Polaris guided the submersible into the cave."

Crane shook his head. "Andi wouldn't do that. Tollen wouldn't let you have the submersible. And Chip wouldn't let you do anything so stupid. Neither would Doc. Besides, you'd have to be insane. And you aren't."

"I'm not sure Doc would confirm that diagnosis," Nelson told him, trying for humour because that was a part of their normal relationship that Crane might recognise.

The other man, though, was shaking his head.

What, then? Talk about an experience we shared, that no-one else would know about? But Lee says he's experienced things out of his memory... things he knows I know about. This has to be something he doesn't know, but that he'll believe.

"Listen," Nelson said. "I'm going to tell you something about a conversation we once had."

"From my own memory, you mean?"

"Uhuh. I don't think so. Though perhaps I should have told you..." Even now, Nelson found himself hesitating. "But then, we don't talk about what really matters, do we? Perhaps because we're afraid of losing it. We take understanding for granted... I'm not sure we should."

"Admiral, there's no need-"

"Yes, yes there is, Lee." Nelson let go of him, and began pacing the non-existent floor. "If I'm going to get both of us out of here, I've got to convince you I'm real, that this is not coming out of your own head. It's not important if I..." Embarrass both of us.

He swung suddenly to face Crane. "You remember, way back when you joined _Seaview_ , I told you that the original computer search had put your name at the top of the list of possible captains, but I appointed Phillips because-"

"You wanted someone who would do as they were told." Crane chuckled. "Paraphrased loosely, of course."

"I lied."

Crane's eyes sought Nelson's, wide with astonishment.

Got you.

"I remembered you too well - and I wasn't sure I had the guts to sacrifice your life, if I had to. Once you were there, it turned out I had... just about... and, anyway, you slotted back into my life as if you'd been there all along. Even though you still don't know how to obey orders." He took a deep breath. "You always... meant a lot to me. Now, it's reason enough for me to join you in this mess, in the slim hope of getting us both out of it. And don't tell me that this came out of your imagination, because-"

He didn't get to finish the sentence. "I couldn't imagine anything this stupid! D'you think I wanted-?

"Me here? Yes. Sorry, but it's a bit late to deny it now."

"Not if it costs you your life too!"

Nelson grinned at him, keeping it light. "And I thought we were a team who could take on the world." He punched Crane's shoulder gently. "What are partners for?"

 

"It was the Admiral's decision," Ritter pointed out defensively as she stood with her back to the sickbay wall facing the semicircle of angry men.

"Oh, for pity's sake!" _Seaview's_ doctor exploded. The anaesthetic had done nothing for his temper. Neither had being robbed of a patient.

"Well, she may be right," Jones said slowly. "If there's a chance-" He stopped, eyes on Morton's face. "You don't think so."

"Well... I've heard wilder theories from the Admiral that turned out to be true," Morton said, judicially. "But this time-"

"This time," the doctor interrupted, "this time you can recognised a decision taken by a mind unbalanced by grief and shock, a decision made on pure emotion-"

"That's all right," Ritter said. "So was mine."

"Women..." Curley muttered.

He hadn't intended to be heard, but Ritter rounded on him at once. "It wasn't a woman who took a million to one chance because it seemed preferable to accepting the loss of a friend," she pointed out. "And the least you can do for the man is give him time. If, by any chance, he was right, you damage whatever's down there, and you destroy both of them."

 

"This isn't real, of course," Crane said, staring round with mild interest.

"Nothing here is real - this is just an interpretation our minds are making to cope with the impossible."

"Hallucinations," Crane agreed. "Are we having the same one?"

"Depends on whether you're seeing multidimensional maps of the ocean floor stretching for miles in all directions, and bank upon bank of electronic equipment."

"It is the same hallucination," Crane told him, to Nelson's unspoken relief. "So just what is it that our brains are interpreting in this way?"

"Electromagnetic currents or, perhaps-" A new thought had just occurred to Nelson. "Perhaps electrochemical currents."

Crane picked up on the ramifications of that at once. "You're suggesting that this is a brain rather than a computer?"

"Well, they are much the same thing. What we can be certain of is that there's something electrically active and very complex below the seabed at this point. Something that sees the world like this... and something that has to be fed."

Crane said nothing for a moment. Then: "Admiral... all the whales... in particular the toothed whales... seem to know exactly where they are in the oceans, even when they can't see the sun or the stars."

"Yes, and they have structures in their brains that we don't understand, either."

"You think this is some sort of living navigational computer?"

Nelson spread his hands. "You have any better ideas?"

"No, but I'm waiting with bated breath to hear your theory of how this thing _evolved._ "

"Perhaps it didn't, or not in the way you mean. Perhaps there was a mutation, millions of years ago, before the whales had begun to evolve into their present forms. That mutant came here, and its... mind is the wrong word, perhaps, for there doesn't seem to be any consciousness, but I don't know what other word we can use... its mind joined the electrical pattern in the rocks to become something only partly alive, something unique. What was living would have fed on the plankton washed into the cave by the currents. If this thing already existed, a... a relaying and storage centre... those whales that evolved a system of using it, even in the most primitive way, would have had an evolutionary advantage.

"No, I don't think this thing evolved, Lee. I think whales evolved ways of using it. And ways of feeding it."

"Admiral," Crane said. "Tollen's been drilling here. And whales throughout the world-"

"Have ended up in places where they've never been seen before. Yes, Lee. I know. Looks like he may have damaged it."

"There's an area over there that's dark, and another that keeps blinking in and out as if there was a loose connection somewhere. Should we go and look?"

"Why not? There doesn't seem to be much else to do."

 

"Commander Morton!" Tollen appeared at the top of the spiral stairway into the observation nose like a messenger from Heaven, triumph blazing in his voice.

"Not now, Mr Tollen," Morton said tiredly. "We've enough problems-"

Tollen leaped the last couple of feet and hit the deck with a thump. "While we were on the surface I put through a call to Washington. Your radio turned out to be powerful enough to get through the static. There's message from here for you, Commander, from the Pentagon. Perhaps you'd like to read it - and perhaps you'd like to look at the signature."

 

"We're not going to get out, you know," Crane said as he unclipped a presumably imaginary panel and peered inside at equally imaginary wiring.

"No, I don't... er... I don't suppose we are. But we can save a lot of lives - not human, but sentient and sapient none the less."

"What d'you suppose we're really doing?"

"Directing the rebuilding of nerve networks? Cauterising tissue with some kind of telekinesis? Changing magnetic fields. Who knows? Look, this is all out of alignment. Can you remember the checking sequence?"

"Think so. Read me those dials... but you know, Admiral, I still think they'd've been better off with a couple of brain surgeons."

"I'll put in a requisition just as soon as we get back to _Seaview_. Now, I'm starting from my left..."

 

"If the Admiral is still alive down there - and frankly, Commander, it seems unlikely - you can still obey your orders," Tollen insisted in a voice that was all too reasonable for Ritter's taste. "I'm not asking you to fire at the canyon - I'm asking you to clear the whales from the seamount area so that my men can work."

"Let's not forget why we came here in the first place, Commander," Ritter snapped. "We didn't come to help Tollen here exploit oceanic resources, but to find out why the whales in this area are behaving so strangely, and we won't be able to do that if you kill the lot!"

"If those damn beasts are as intelligent as you say, Doctor, then once they've seen what will happen to them if they mess with us then they'll hightail it out of here and mind their own business in the future," Tollen retorted.

"Ah. So that was the reason you wanted _Seaview_ here. You didn't want to find out about the whales, but to destroy them. So you baited a trap, and the Admiral fell right into it but you didn't bargain for him bringing me along, did you?"

"Don't be absurd, Doctor. I'm sure that Commander Morton is as aware as I am that you have something of an axe to grind here - and he's the only one with any power over events ... or do you plan to take command of _Seaview_ by force?"

"No - but perhaps you do."

 

"Well, that's it, as far as I can tell," Nelson said, sitting back on his heels. "Want to throw the switch and see if we blow all the fuses?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," Crane pointed out, pulling down the circuit breaker. "Remember the lights on the tree in the wardroom last Christmas-?"

"I'm trying not to. The Chief Engineer still hasn't forgiven me. I'm beginning to feel as if I need a pass for the circuitry room... ah."

As Crane systematically knocked a row of switches into the 'down' position, the blank area came to life, like a city returning to normal after a powercut. He grinned at Nelson. "Want to sing _Oh Tannenbaun_?"

"Not without at least four double Bourbons inside me."

"Sorry, I guess the bars are shut. Maybe if you imagined very, very hard..."

"If you couldn't call me out of thin air, I doubt I can call Jack Daniels." Nelson accepted Crane's offered hand and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet, even as a large toothy grin materialised in ghostly Cheshire-cat fashion through the computer bank, followed by the rest of the familiar black and white whale which appeared to find no difficulty in swimming in air.

"Polaris," Crane greeted, without much apparent surprise.

The Orca did a triple body-roll in the non-existent water. "Strange place," he announced, and for the first time the communication was not just a feeling: Nelson and Crane heard the whale as if it had spoken aloud.

"Polaris, what the hell are you doing here?" Nelson demanded.

"New place. Only dying Old Ones come. But I can come while live, like you. Friends fix?"

"Yes, friends fix," Nelson agreed. "But if there are some of your people in here, why didn't they fix it?"

Polaris rubbed up against Crane like a giant cat, though he was so big the man had to brace himself against the imaginary computer. "You come from hard/dry. Make things. Make things to find-place like we do."

"Inertial guidance?" Nelson guessed. Then, "But how the devil could he know about that?"

Polaris made clicking noises that indicated annoyance. "Watch, hear. What else, dry-person? You find-place as we, but not use this-place as we do. I hear. I sense. This-place is thing. We not make-change things. Dry-persons make-change things. This-place thing need fix. I bring dry-person friend."

"Oh you did, did you?" Crane said grimly.

"So that's why he brought you down here! Well, at least he had the sense to take you back to the ship before your air ran out!"

There was a strong sense of shamefaced apology from Polaris. "Slight error in plan. But brought other dry-person friend to help when asked."

"So you did. And now we've fixed things as you planned, can you get us out of here?"

"Sure. Have brought dead-one guide," Polaris announced, even as a second, even larger Killer Whale came up through the floor just in front of their feet, making them step backwards. There was no doubt about Polaris's amusement, though he circled the other whale just as warily as it circled him. "Now you come." He vanished into the wall.

"Why not?" Crane said, and kicked off the bottom as if he, too, believed it was water. The computer became suddenly insubstantial, like a cinema version of a ghost, but the electronic pathways were sparkling clear highways in the darkness. Nelson shrugged, and followed.

 

Ritter was beginning to feel desperate - and was wishing with all that desperation for the Admiral to return. When they had made their plans she had not anticipated this, and she doubted that he had either. But perhaps Morton was wishing for the Admiral too.

"Commander," she said. "You know how Captain Crane felt about using the _Seaview_ to attack Orcas and that Admiral Nelson agreed with him."

Morton's head came up, and suddenly Ritter knew she had made a real mistake. "Neither the Captain nor the Admiral had seen this message, Doctor. And it's... unlikely that they ever will. I can't run this boat by trying to decide what they 'might' have wanted to do in any given situation." He raised his voice: "Right men, let's get this show on the road."

 

Before long, ahead of them, Nelson saw the electrical patterns change, becoming less sophisticated, of an entirely different structure than those around him...

Of course. The submersible. If they just followed the paths into its heart... and yes, they split, into more complex terminations, in the right place.

He gave Crane a gentle shove in the right direction. "See the connectors to the rear seat? Follow them to go home, huh?"

Instead of obeying, Crane turned to face him. "Admiral..."

"Go home, Lee. When this is over, perhaps we can talk about it."

"If we don't get back... Well, I want you to know I..." He shook his head, then held out his hand. "Thank you."

Knowing it wasn't real, Nelson accepted the offered handclasp all the same. Then he dived into the current, swimming towards the terminals he knew led to his own body.

There was an instant of confusion, then like the crew of a warship finding their stations in a general alert, everything settled into place, some functions a little more slowly than others, until there was calm, and he was whole.

He opened his eyes, and blinked the controls on the panel in front of him into focus. All normal, as he seemed to be normal, though he could still feel the tug of the electrical patterns-

When he ripped away his communicator terminals, the vast electrochemical web blinked out as if someone had pulled the plug. He hardly noticed it go as he dived towards the rear of the craft, where Crane was struggling back to consciousness.

Nelson got one arm round his shoulders, while he used his free hand to disconnect him from the communicators. "Lee? You all right? How d'you feel?"

"M'okay... bit weak," he admitted, at Nelson's sceptical expression. "Like I've been in bed for a week. Otherwise I'm fine. Listen, Admiral-"

"You stay right where you are," Nelson ordered, making sure he obeyed by using just enough force. "I'll get us back to _Seaview_ and we'll have the Doc check you out. Then-"

"Admiral, would you listen. Before you pulled the leads loose, I had a communication from Polaris. The whole area's alive with whale alarm calls. Something's wrong."

Glancing out of the portholes, Nelson could see the Killer Whale doing frantic belly-rolls in the water alongside in an attempt to attract their attention. "Okay," he said. "Take over the sonar and I'll try to get us out of here."

 

Nelson eased the submersible out through the cave entrance and up out of the canyon, from darkness into deep twilight. Lee had been right. He could hear the whale's alarm calls even through the thick hull of the submersible.

Crane was peering at the sonar. "There's _Seaview_ ," he said. "About ten points on the starboard bow - well, as much as this thing has a bow."

Obediently, Nelson made the necessary course change, and _Seaview_ came into view in the porthole in front of him.

Crane swore under his breath. "Admiral, look how she's stationed. If she fires her torpedoes or missiles she can blow half the whales out of the water without either the rig or the sealab being damaged by explosions or shockwaves."

Nelson looked at the distance to _Seaview_ , then at Crane, then changed course, heading directly into the centre of the whale's protective patrols. Crane, meanwhile, was fiddling with the controls of the searchlights.

"Think they'll notice the signal?" Nelson asked.

"Well, they aren't going to spot us on sonar; the whales'll mask us entirely. We'll have to rely on there being a bow lookout on station - and awake." Crane had begun to flick the searchlights on and off in long and short bursts. Nelson did not bother to try to read the Morse. It would be in clear English and might well turn the water blue and some faces on _Seaview_ red - if they noticed the little submersible, and if they noticed the lights were flashing, and if they worked out why...

And if they saw them at all.

"Damn," Nelson said mildly.

Crane looked up from the sonar in alarm. "What is it?"

"Those blasted whales are not only blocking the sonar, Lee. They're in line of sight between us and _Seaview_. Unless we can get past them in time there's no chance at all of anyone seeing our signal."

 

"Bow tubes loaded and ready to fire, sir," Curley Jones's voice informed Morton and everyone in the Observation Nose.

"It's not too late to change your mind, Commander," Ritter pointed out.

"Sorry, Doctor. The orders from Washington were quite clear, and I- what on Earth?"

A black and white whale came hurtling out of the gloom ahead of them, rolling, looping and somersaulting in the water like an aircraft with a berserk pilot. Behind it, the whales were scattering in a giant starburst, leaving a single beast behind them... Except no whale in Creation was fluorescent orange-

"It's the submersible!" Kowalski shouted from the bow lookout station.

"Torpedo room, hold your fire!" Morton roared down the mike.

"She's signalling to us with her lights, Mr Morton."

"Then for Christ's sake signal to Nelson to get out of there so we can get on with our job," Tollen snapped.

Morton, though, had not taken his eyes from the submersible. Now he said pressed the button on his mike again and said: "Sparks, lay up to the Observation Nose on the double."

The radio operator was there within thirty seconds. As he came down the steps Morton caught him by the shoulders and swung him to face the windows. "The submersible," he said. "I can read what the Morse says and how it's signed, but I want confirmation of who is actually sending it."

"Wait a minute, sir," Sparks protested. "Key-style may be as distinctive as a fingerprint, but only if you know it and that-"

"Try." Morton insisted.

Sparks stared intently at the submersible for a few seconds, then his frown cleared. "It is the Skipper, sir, I think. He doesn't seem very pleased."

"Use the bow lights to reply," Morton ordered, ignoring that. "It's that switch there, Sparks. Signal: 'Received. Firing aborted. Morton.'"

"Aye, sir."

"I'm sorry, Mr Tollen. I guess you and Washington will have to argue it out with the Admiral and the Capta-" He stopped, realising he was wasting the words on air. "Where the hell is Tollen anyway - and Dr Ritter. Where's she gone?"

 

Out in the submersible, Crane leaned back in his seat and mopped imaginary sweat from his brow. "You know there, just for a moment, I thought we were going to end up as part of an enormous whale stew."

"It's all due to your friend Polaris that we aren't. Someone had to tell the whales to scatter like that, and I can't think of another candidate."

"They're not supposed to be able to communicate inter-species." Crane sounded doubtful.

"Maybe where we are had something to do with it, or maybe the implants, or maybe both. Right now, Lee, I really don't think I care very much."

"That won't last," Crane said, gloomily. "Within a couple of months we're going to be chasing around here trying to talk to whales with Orca interpreters, you see if I'm not right."

Nelson did not even attempt to deny the charge. "A couple of months is a couple of months. Meanwhile, Lee, right now it's time to go home... or back to _Seaview_ at any rate."

 

Suddenly, Andrea Ritter's voice echoed from every speaker on the ship. "Commander Morton, listen to me. Tollen's got a gun. I followed him to the torpedo room. I couldn't stop him-"

Ruthlessly, Morton cut her off, while a wave of his hand sent Kowalski and Patterson racing aft to find her. "Engineering! Right engines ahead flank, port engines back flank. Helm: hard right rudder. Turn her fast or we're going to blow the Admiral and the Skipper out of the water! Sparks..."

"Already doing it, sir." The radio operator's deft finger flipped the switch with astonishing speed, though his eyes never left the submersible which was still moving directly towards them.

"Engine room, answering bells."

"Hard right rudder, aye, si-"

Morton cut over the acknowledgements ruthlessly. "Blow forward tanks for ten seconds. Twenty degrees up angle on the planes." Switching lines again, he called urgently: "Tollen! Listen to me. If you fire now the torpedoes won't-"

The ship shuddered under his feet in an all too familiar fashion, and Morton's fist crashed down on the desk in fury before he turned and raced back into the bowels of the ship.

 

Crane glanced idly at the sonar screen, and stilled. "Back your engines!" he barked at Nelson. "Flood your ballast tanks - now!"

It wasn't the way anyone - even Crane - ever talked to Nelson. That in itself would have galvanised him into action, even if the order hadn't come from Crane.

"Done!" he snapped, as the submersible tilted tail down and began to sink. "Wh-"

"Hard right rudder," Crane interrupted, and Nelson threw the yoke over to its fullest extent. The little craft, designed for far less violent treatment, bucked and yawed under the Admiral's hands... even as, only three feet in front of his eyes, a torpedo churned right across their bows and into the darkness.

"My God," Nelson said, not blasphemously, but with true reverence. Then: "Are there any more of those things?"

"No. The others in the salvo missed by about fifty yards. But what the hell does Chip think he'd playing at?"

"I don't know," said Nelson. "But I think it's time we got back to _Seaview_ and found out, don't you?"

 

"He's in there, sir," O'Brien reported as Morton was welcomed into the midst of the small and heavily armed party that was gathered about one of his two missing passengers outside the torpedo room. "So are some of our men. Dr Ritter here says he's got a gun, so-"

"Do we rush him, sir?" Kowalski demanded.

Morton thought back to his conversations with Tollen, and to the message from Washington. "Not yet, Kowalski. Mr O'Brien, you stay were with Patterson and Kowalski. You come in only if a shot is fired, but if it is, you come in fast and ready to shoot. Got that?"

"Got it."

"Right, Chief, you come with me. Dr Ritter, stay here and keep out of the line of fire. I don't want to have to explain your death to those blasted whales of yours. Okay, Patterson, open the hatch."

"But you can't go in there unarmed, sir-"

"Patterson!" Jones bellowed in outrage.

"Aye, Chief," Patterson muttered, reaching for the hatch wheel.

With the hatch door open, Morton stepped through to find the torpedo room crew lined up near the tubes with mutiny written all over their faces, and Tollen holding a gun that did not need to be moved more than a couple of inches to shoot either him or them.

"Stay right where you are, Commander."

"You missed," Morton told him, stopping all the same. "Missed the whales, missed the rig and, luckily for you, missed the submersible."

"Then you'd better make sure I don't miss the next time, eh, Commander?" The gun was levelled straight at Morton's chest. Outside the hatch, O'Brien was keeping a very strict eye on Kowalski and Patterson, who were becoming restive.

"I have. Fire any one of these torpedoes and you're going to blow your sealab right out of the water."

Tollen shook his head. "You wouldn't do it. Not with twenty men in there."

"Wouldn't I?" Morton was at his blandest. "After all, I only have your word that anyone's in that sealab - and, to be frank, Mr Tollen, I have very little faith in your word anymore."

Tollen's dark eyes searched the impassive face, met the cold blue eyes... "You're mad!" he exclaimed.

"You said it yourself, Mr Tollen: we're all mad here. But none of us has committed any crime - even you. Not yet. Not if you give me that gun right now."

"And the order from the Secretary for Defense?"

"What order?" Morton asked. "You know anything about an order, Chief?"

Curley's wrinkled brow developed even more wrinkles, increasing his resemblance to a puzzled bulldog. "We haven't received any orders, sir."

"But you were there when - I see," Tollen said grimly. "Mad," he added, reversed the gun, and handed it to Clarke, who happened to be nearest.

"Thank you," Morton said. "Sir."

"Enjoy your victory, Commander. Be assured it will be a very temporary one. As you say, I have committed no crime, and I still have a mining concession, and a contract. And you can't stay here to protect the whales for ever, can you? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get back to my own ship, where I can start planning my victory celebrations."

Nodding to Morton, he swept out. From the corridor, Morton and Jones could hear O'Brien's snarled orders to Kowalski and Patterson to keep their guns to themselves.

"Can he do that?" Ritter asked plaintively, from the hatchway.

"Probably," Morton said glumly. "As he says, he's got the law on his side." He brightened. "But we've got the Admiral on ours. Let's hope he has some ideas."

 

"The UN has declared the area off-limits to all except authorised research ships, and handed the vetting of those over to the NIMR," Nelson announced as he came into the nose.

"You must've talked very fast," Crane observed.

"I talked a lot about whales running ashore all over the world, exterminating whole species and polluting beaches in every country with a seacoast," Nelson explained. "I made noises about the tourist industry... Besides, most of our enemies are happy to see us being stopped from mining here. I promised Washington another source, by the way, so I'm afraid we're going to be tied up with mining surveys for a while, but after that... Andrea, would you be interested in a joint project to find out how Polaris communicated with the great whales, and if we could use the same channels."

"What did I tell you?" Crane muttered.

Nelson gave him a sharp glance. Crane looked blankly innocent.

"Gladly," Dr Ritter said. "If you'll do one thing for me: throw your weight behind the anti-whaling lobby - and we may have something left to study."

Nelson nodded. "Consider it done. We know how bright the toothed whales are - I don't want to take any chances with the baleen whales either. Someday, we hope to be able to talk to everyone who shares this universe with us: I think we'd better start with those who share our planet."

"Or even," Crane said, "with each other."

Nelson dropped a hand on his shoulder. "Oh," he said. "I think we may be learning to do that, don't you?"

Crane grinned up at him. "With a little help from our friends?"

"With a lot of help from all our friends."


End file.
